“I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be.” —Joan Didion On July 29, 1981, I woke up all four of my stepchildren in the middle of the night. I had prepared a traditional English breakfast, and we sat in our pajamas watching the wedding of Prince Charles and Princess Diana. Throughout the ceremony I kept reminding them that their father, Michael (aka H1—my first husband), was a British subject, and that they had dual citizenship and this was their history, their heritage. One of them recently told me that this is a vivid image in her mind; I would think part of her sense of self, because of the way I touted it at the time. Their father wouldn’t have woken them up to watch unless I had pushed it. I thought it was a great morning, and I loved watching the pomp and circumstance and the tradition and the lovely bride, and imagining the surely perfect future they all would have, and which, thanks to their British DNA, my stepkids would surely have as well.